


Acquiescence Over Ambrosia

by surprisepink



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: (of sorts), Alcohol, Gen, Reconciliation, background Theseus/Asterius because I can't help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisepink/pseuds/surprisepink
Summary: Zagreus and Theseus make an effort to get along (?) and it goes well (???)
Relationships: Theseus & Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	Acquiescence Over Ambrosia

“—so anyway, don’t take my word for it or anything, but I think you should talk to him. Tell him what you told me, about how you think you can get along! What’s the worst he can do, try to fight you again?”

“You’re right, Dusa. And I don’t think Nyx, let alone Mother, would stand for that happening in the House. What’s the worst that can happen, really? Thanks for the advice.”

“No problem, Prince! Do you, uh, want me to stick around? Try to help keep things civil?”

“I’d rather you not, if it’s all the same to you. Don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”

The first voice Theseus’ overhears—he is not eavesdropping whatsoever!—is high-pitched, almost squeaky, and seems to be coming from a gorgon head that is, surprisingly, not also spewing out rocks. The second voice is a familiar, grating one.

Theseus does not _need_ to be here, strictly speaking. He and Asterius are expected to make appearances in Lord Hades’ home every so often so Hades can lecture him about his job performance, Theseus can complain that he’s doing his best and the daemon is just _tricking_ him, and Asterius can nod politely and apologize for both of them. Nothing much ever comes of it. They can’t be _fired_ , they’re the _champions_ , so the whole thing is rather pointless.

Still! The Queen is back and the garden in front of the House is open again, so the visit has overall been a pleasant one. Asterius is taking advantage of said garden, either exploring, taking a nap in it, or perhaps snacking on it. Regardless, Theseus has taken the opportunity to have a seat in the lounge and is now tapping his foot impatiently, waiting for the chef to finish his order.

(He doesn’t have forever! Well, he does, but...)

He winces when he hears footsteps in his direction, footsteps that very clearly belong to the daemon himself.

“Do not approach, hellspawn!’ he says. It would be admitting weakness to even _look_ at him, and so he does not.

“Hi, Theseus,” says daemon, approaching nonetheless. “I want you to have this.”

It sounds like a threat, but evidently it is not. An item is dangled in front of him: a bottle of ambrosia.

Theseus narrows his eyes. “I have plenty of these. Dozens! Hundreds! Also, I do not want to talk to you.”

“You don’t want to talk? My gods, who are you and what have you done with that well-oiled windbag that protects Elysium from my fiendish ways?”

“The Champion is _hungry_.”

“You’re dead. You don’t get hungry. But you can still enjoy the taste of things! Which is why I’m giving this to you.” When Theseus doesn’t take the bottle, it’s set down in front of him instead. Immediately, he pushes it away.

Though the precise nature of this trickery is not clear, this is _absolutely_ a trick—why else would the daemon do something like offer a gift? Loathe as Theseus is to admit it, there’s really no need for the other man to get on his good side or convince him to go easy. As of late, their battles have gone quite poorly on Theseus’ part.

(And wonderfully on Asterius’ part; that he will not concede. The daemon must be cheating if he can fell the bull so easily!)

“I want no part in your schemes! How cruel you are, waiting for me to be alone, vulnerable! To strike at me when I am unable to defend myself, lest I anger the Gods and Furies themselves!” Theseus says, pounding his fist on the table. “Were we in Elysium, Asterius and I would make you beg for mercy!”

“Would you, now? I seem to recall that the last time you tried you were defeated quite thoroughly, though I’ll admit that surrounding you with Lady Demeter’s icy crystals was a bit of a cheap move. Still! I approach Asterius when he’s alone all the time, and he never complains.”

“Do not use my partner against me!” Theseus says. By this time, his voice has raised from merely a bit loud to flat-out yelling. But how can he not cry out, when Asterius’ good graces are being manipulated in such a crude manner.

“You were the one who brought him up!” The daemon takes a deep breath before he continues; Theseus still refuses to look at his face. “All right, this isn’t how I wanted this to go. Let me start again: Theseus, I’m sorry for how you always suffer such embarrassing defeats at my hand, in front of all your fans. I’m not sorry for winning, but it seems to really embarrass you, and that makes me feel bad, okay? Especially the last time, with the ice and all.”

Much as Theseus would like to insist that the daemon could never cause him to feel shame, the incident he’s describing _was_ rather humiliating, and very cold. He and Asterius had comforted each other well afterwards, as always, but still! He would appreciate the apology, if it was sincere.

He takes the ambrosia in his hand, pulls it closer again.

He is not sure if the apology is sincere. What fool would trust a hellspawn?

But. The queen had said something interesting, after Theseus had a chance to enthusiastically greet her: _my son talks a lot about you. Take good care of him!_

It was a lot to take in. The daemon had told him that she was his mother, clearly a lie. And then it wasn’t. Theseus had not been so shocked since the first time he realized Asterius could speak!

He had been wrong about the Minotaur; he preferred not to think he might be wrong twice.

Theseus turns to face the daemon, finally. He taps the bottle. “Drink first, and then we’ll see if you can be trusted.”

The daemon rolls his hideous multicolored eyes, but he brazenly reaches behind the bar for two glasses, heedless of the glare of the shade that had just washed them. He uncorks the bottle, pours a generous amount in each—and then chugs his portion. “Your turn,” he says, smirking. “Nothing weird here.”

It’s a challenge, and Theseus will never back down from a challenge, least of all from _him_. He downs his own glass of ambrosia, faster than the hellspawn had. The effect of it is almost immediate; unlike the wines of mortals, ambrosia warms the body and lightens the heart instantly.

It loosens the tongue, too. Theseus pours himself a second glass, but before he even begins to drink it, he’s lost most what little ability he has to censor himself.

“What did you say your name was?” Theseus asks. He has truly forgotten; why recall a name you will never have a need to use?

The daemon has rudely invited himself to sit down beside Theseus. His brows furrow at the question. Confusion, Theseus supposes. “Huh? Are you really— Zagreus. It’s Zagreus. Are you actually going to call me by name, Theseus?”

“Hmph. I’ll try to remember it, anyway. Queen Persephone told me something quite interesting, Hellspawn Prince Zagreus! It was—”

“Oh, good, she told you. You have to listen to _her_ , surely.”

“Do not interrupt me! I am considering her words, and yours.”

“Right, sure. But she told you she’s my mother, right?”

“She did! Is that true?”

“Yes, I told you that already. Has anyone told _you_ that you’re an annoying drunk?”

“Asterius says I am quite pleasant to be around when I am inebriated!”

“Doesn’t count,” the daemon mutters.

“What was that?!”

“She’s my mother. Hades is my father. I’m a chthonic god! I’m not sure how to make that any more clear. Listen, I don’t care if you want to fight me all the time, but can we at least do it on equal terms? And on the _correct_ terms?”

“If you lie and I believe you, I will look the fool. If you are telling the truth and I do not, I will also look the fool. You must understand my dilemma, daemon.”

It’s honest; more honest than Theseus has ever been with Zagreus. More honest than he is with most people, really.

Zagreus looks very much like he is about to say that Theseus is always a fool, but he resists the urge. His cheeks, Theseus noticed with some sense of victory, are flushed a soft pink, highly unusual for a god. He's becoming inebriated as well, then! And faster than Theseus himself is, he is sure.

“But I will call you by your disgusting name, Zagreus. That can be a start.”

“My mother picked out my name.”

“I will call you by your godlike name!”

“You’re fond of her, then?”

“I am fond of all gods, for all have allowed me their bounties. Most of all the gods of the underworld, who allow me to keep Asterius by my side.”

“It all comes back to the Minotaur, doesn’t it?”

“And with him, it all comes back to me!” This, Theseus takes endless pride in. Only the truest of partners can say such things of each other. “Do not tell me you do not _approve_ of it?”

“Theseus, if my father ever tried to put Asterius back in Erebus, I would go down there myself to get him out before you could make it. Yes, of course I approve of it. And don’t you dare accuse me of trying to take him from you, he’s allowed to have more than one friend.”

The nerve of him, thinking that this is the issue, when in truth Theseus’ concern was never anything less than one of being _replaced_. And now that they have reaffirmed their passion for each other, that is no concern at all!

This, of course, leaves him with no reason left to despise the daemon. And that makes him feel a surprising anxiety inside. He does not like to admit it on the rare occasions that he is wrong—and furthermore, he does not like to _admit_ that he does not like to admit that he is wrong.

So. The daemon—Zagreus—is looking at him expectantly, and Theseus is at an impasse.

“I will believe the queen,” Theseus finally says.

“Wonderful! Then we’re settled? Friends, even?”

Friends, is it? Zagreus can’t forgive so quickly, can he? The gods rarely forgive, and least of all Hades himself. The road to allowing Asterius into Elysium was a long, arduous one indeed, in no small part due to the king of the underworld’s strict policies. His son shouldn’t be any different.

Theseus swirls the liquid in his glass, stalling. The gods will be happy if he chooses to be a bit kinder to Zagreus. _Asterius_ will be happy, certainly. And yet... if it is all a trick...

But Zagreus is holding out a hand in expectation. Theseus grabs it, shakes it perhaps too firmly. He is proud of his handshake! It is one of reconciliation, but not surrender.

“I’ll consider it. But! I will not go easy on you!”

Zagreus grins and grabs the bottle of ambrosia, preparing to pour himself another glass. “Huh. Wouldn’t want you to anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Theseus is a good guy he's just stubborn and I will fight you over it. And finally, I write Hades gen!
> 
> Find me on my [fic twitter](https://twitter.com/surprisepink_) or my [regular twitter](https://twitter.com/seraphknights)!


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